


Who ARE You?

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU Different Meeting, Anal Sex, BAMF John, Daddy Kink, Daddy!John, Eventual Romance, M/M, Surprise daddy kink, meeting at a sex club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3114728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John goes to a sex club to let off some steam, not really expecting to hook up with anyone. Sherlock goes to a sex club to prove he's not a prude. </p><p>They fuck.</p><p>Someone is shot.</p><p>How do things ALWAYS end up like this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



John looked at himself in the mirror again and tried fruitlessly to muss his hair like the male models did in magazines. It looked strange on him, he thought. He looked old. He frowned and pressed the hair back down before grabbing his shooting jacket and heading out into the night. He was anxious. More than anxious. It felt like there was an animal in his belly slowly eating him alive and he thought once more that maybe this was a mistake.

His mobile buzzed and he slipped it from his pocket. Murray. No escaping it then.

"Mur." he said as he answered.

"Johnny boy!" Murray exclaimed, obviously already inebriated, "Where the hell are you?"

"Yeah, um, on my way." John replied, stumbling over his words and easily showing his nervousness to anyone paying attention. Murray wasn't.

"Gorgeous!" he purred. "See you soon, Captain!"

John blushed slightly and rang off, holding his hand out for a passing cab and slipping in. He gave the stranger the address and slumped low in his seat, needlessly worrying that someone would spot him and know exactly where he was going and what he was going to do once he got there.

_____

Sherlock knew it had been a bad idea. He shouldn't have been talked into it in the first place. Should have left the idea behind and stayed home. 

He looked around as he slipped some money into the bouncers hand. He could just see Sebastian around the man's thick shoulder and nodded in his direction. Sebastian gave him one of his trademark weasel smiles and motioned him forward. Yup, horrible idea.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Sebastian shouted, patting Sherlock on the back a bit harder than was comfortable. "We didn't actually think you'd show up!"

"Yes, well, I was thinking-" Sherlock began with much practiced nonchalance.

"Yeah, fine, well, get yourself a drink or something." Sebastian said, interrupting and moving on to talk to someone else so quickly Sherlock felt burned. Not a new sensation when interacting with the man.

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath and walked through the crowd to a well stocked bar where a thin man with dark eyes was filling orders at lightening speed. Sherlock pretended not to take in his surroundings, knowing the way he flicked his eyes this way and that would make Sebastian tease him. 

He sat at the bar next to a loud group of men and slipped his jacket from his shoulders. The move caught the barkeep's eye and the man slithered up to Sherlock, arms rested on the bar, and grinned at him.

"What'll you have, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Whiskey sour." Sherlock replied with a slight frown. 

The man nodded and turned to get his drink. Sherlock took the time to look slowly around himself, trying for normal, three seconds or more of eye contact per person before looking away, three people maximum, and gathered quite a bit of information. There were several couples amongst the large group of men but the majority were single and looking to get a leg over. The thought made him a little sick but he pushed it aside.

_____

John passed a few notes to the driver and slipped out into the cold air. He was tempted to put his collar up but that move always felt a bit false to him, like manufactured mystery. Instead he rubbed his hands together briskly and walked to the line outside the club. 

The men in front of him all looked at least ten years younger and John wondered when it had become normal to wear trousers that looked like they'd been airbrushed on. He felt frumpy in his favorite jeans and blue collared shirt. He hoped his jacket was slick enough. Jesus, he hated feeling like this. 

The bouncer gave him a once over and when John's shoulders went back and he showed what he knew to be a 'bit of soldier' the man grinned and scribbled a number on the back of John's hand. He ignored the note proffered and John nodded once and walked inside with a little more bounce in his step. 

_____ 

Sherlock drank down his first drink quickly and was working on his second while attempting to ignore the boisterous group to his right when the tallest man, a brute with a thunderous laugh, bumped into him. Sherlock turned to find the man was being guided to a stool by one of his smaller companions.

Sherlock had a few cruel things on the tip of his tongue for when the man turned around. What they were he honestly couldn't remember once he saw the dark blue eyes and apologetic smile on the shorter man's face.

"Sorry!" he shouted. 

Sherlock tried for 'not a problem' and 'okay' at the same time and was more than ecstatic when his response of 'not okay' was covered by a sudden change in the music. 

"Didn't catch that." the blond said, moving closer, "I'm John."

Sherlock sat a bit straighter and leaned in to introduce himself. John shook his hand, something Sherlock wasn't sure was supposed to happen at a sex club, and sat on the newly vacant stool next to him. That was when John noticed that Sherlock's drink had been spilled all over the bar with Murray's jostling.

"Let me buy you another." John said, pointing to the glass that had been completely forgotten. 

"Oh, that's," Sherlock began, but John was already waving to the barkeep and getting Sherlock another.

When the barkeep brought the drinks John held his up and Sherlock smiled nervously and tapped his glass against the lip of it and took a sip. 

Murray said something and wrapped an arm around John's waist, holding him like one would a beloved teddy bear, and tugged John onto the dance floor, drink and all. John's eyes managed to be both surprised and once more apologetic as he was dragged away. Sherlock felt suddenly adrift and wondered how the man had managed to get him so entranced with so few words.

"We really didn't think you'd show!" Sebastian reiterated from Sherlock's side quite suddenly.

Sherlock spun to look up at him and wondered why the hell he'd been invited in the first place when Seb obviously didn't want to see him. It only took a few seconds for it to become obvious as Seb's companion, and apparent lover, took to his side. It was a lark. They'd invited Sherlock to say they had invited him and the freak had been too scared to come. Sherlock's stomach sank at the realisation and he sneered at the two.

"Yes, well, I guess I'm not as much of a prude as you thought." Sherlock shot back.

Sebastian gave a weak laugh and looked like he didn't know what to do with his hands so Sherlock turned away from them again and let his eyes fall back on the blond, John, who was being close to molested on the dance floor. Sherlock watched as he let his head fall back and laughed deeply when the huge man rubbed his face on his neck. 

He wanted to rub his face on John's neck. 

_____

Another two hours passed and John was edging on drunk as a third man made his way to his side and placed a hand on his hip. John looked up to find the man he'd met earlier, the one with the dark hair and the piercing eyes. He had a strange look in his eyes, almost sad, but it slipped off as John turned to grin at him.

"Fancy meeting you here!" John shouted as he slid closer and pressed himself against the tall slim body in front of him.

Sherlock smirked and let the music relax him as John moved back and forth. He really did like dancing and the last few drinks had him getting up the nerve to venture out. He saw the opportunity when John's latest partner had left.

They moved together for a while, eyes locked, and John felt himself breathing faster as Sherlock let his hands drift to his arse and pulled him closer. He was more than pleasantly surprised when he felt Sherlock hard against his abdomen. He took a chance and leaned closer to press their lips together. When he drew back Sherlock looked startled for a second before smashing their lips back together with a bit too much force.

John moaned into his mouth and gripped his trousers to pull him closer, grinding his erection against Sherlock's upper thigh and biting his plush bottom lip. 

They danced like that for a while longer, exchanging heated and rough kisses and panting into each other's mouths. John's blood was singing in his veins and he found himself getting uncomfortably hard. Bloody hell, he was actually going to get off in a sex club. The thought, being exposed in semi-public, had him growling and pulling Sherlock into one of the dark alcoves scattered around the room.

"I don't usually do this." he admitted as he pulled Sherlock's shirt from his trousers and ran his hands up his back. "Do you want to-"

"Yes." Sherlock gasped.

John spun him around forcefully and began unfastening the taller man's trousers. Sherlock moaned and shoved his arse back into John's groin. John moaned in return and pushed Sherlock's trousers and pants down his hips. 

"Condom." Sherlock said, pulling a foil square and small packet of lube from his jacket and passing it back.

John ripped the lube open with his teeth and spread it over his fingers then reached down and pressed against Sherlock's arsehole. Sherlock moaned and bent over further, pressing himself against John's hand and making John's fingertip slip inside.

"Fuck!" John exclaimed, "Fuck, you're gorgeous!"

Sherlock grunted and urged him forward with a wriggle of his hips. John pushed slowly into him and crooked his finger slightly before pulling it out and starting to thrust it slowly.

"More!" Sherlock demanded with another grunt.

John pushed a second finger in and scissored them to stretch Sherlock's tight hole wider. He pressed Sherlock's shoulders so the man bent more and stared transfixed as his fingers disappeared into the taller man's body. He added a third finger when Sherlock relaxed and then more lube.

"Do it!" Sherlock growled.

"Jesus!" John panted as he fumbled with his fly and pulled himself out, giving a perfunctory stroke and then slipping the condom on.

He reached forward and gripped Sherlock's hip with his right hand as he lined himself up with the left and pushed in. He cursed and pulled back out slightly before pushing in again. 

"Yes!" Sherlock shouted, knuckles going white as he pressed his hands against the wall.

John had to go onto his tip toes to fill Sherlock completely but it was well worth it. He started up a bruising rhythm and gripped Sherlock's curls in his hands, almost choking as the man moaned and rolled his hips.

"I'm close!" Sherlock growled, "Harder!"

John fucked into him roughly and reached a hand around to pull at his swollen and neglected cock. He felt Sherlock's hole flutter and then clamp down as he reached climax and thrust as deep as he could, spilling into the condom and digging his fingers into Sherlock's skin.

He stroked the man through his orgasm, fully seated in his heat, and then slumped against his back.

"That was..." Sherlock murmured, John being able to hear him as he was pressed against his back.

"Mmm." John replied weakly.

He sighed and pulled out, slipping himself back into his trousers and watching Sherlock do the same. 

That was when everything went to hell. 

The next thing Sherlock knew he was holding John's balled up shirt to a gaping hole in an olive skinned man's belly as the doctor, surprise, surprise, checked his vitals and shouted over his mobile to the police. 

The tile floor was slick with blood beneath his knees and he struggled to keep the pressure and have a single cognizant thought. John was breathtaking. He was new and shining and utterly in his element and bloody breathtaking.

"Yeah!" John shouted, "Bracelet that says he's diabetic. O Neg. About a pint. Yeah!" 

Sherlock's right knee slipped and he fumbled with the shirt, glancing up and expecting to be scolded. Instead John put a steadying hand on his shoulder and gave him a slight nod that anyone could tell meant 'you're doing well'. Sherlock swallowed and nodded back as John rang off and stuffed his mobile back in his pocket.

"They're on the way. What the hell happened?" John asked, not expecting an answer.

"Simple domestic. The indentation on his left ring finger suggests a husband, or more likely, a wife. She probably followed him here and confronted him when she found him having relations with the man that ran out screaming." Sherlock replied.

"What? Wait, why more likely a wife?" John asked, placing his hand over Sherlock's and helping to press.

"Size of the footprints in the blood. She left through the back door. Probably didn't mean to use the gun. Brought it on a whim and ran when it accidentally went off. We'll find it in a storm drain or bin less than a block away I think. She'll want to be rid of it." Sherlock extrapolated.

"Who ARE you?" John asked a bit breathlessly.

"Sherlock Holmes, I said-" Sherlock began, a bit confused.

John chuckled and it was so innocent and open that Sherlock smiled back without understanding the joke, or that there was no joke. John took a deep breath to speak just as the medics got there.


	2. Blood And Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're at a crime scene. Go figure.

The medics took the man away as John and Sherlock stood back. Both men looked around at the room, a small space once almost hygienic, now caked and spattered with blood. The multiple footprints in blood told a story neither men wanted to dwell on so they turned to the mirrors, and away from each other, and stood looking blankly for a moment. Lestrade walked in just when they were starting to wash their hands and scrubbed his fingers across his forehead with a sigh. The suit he was wearing had seen better days, probably spent most of its life in dingy spots like this, and Sherlock wondered when he was going to get his promotion. Greg slipped his suit jacket off and held it under his arm as he rolled the sleeves back. John, who'd never met the man, finished washing and turned to watch him carefully. Sherlock dabbed at his knees with a wet cloth that just came back bloodier each time.

"Should have known I'd run into you." Lestrade said to Sherlock's back as the lights flickered and cast a greenish glow.

"Yes, well." Sherlock added uselessly, not wanting to talk with Greg after he'd done what he thought was such a shite job of helping John.

"What are you even doing in a sex club? Wait! Don't tell me, I don't want to know." Lestrade said in exasperation as an assistant took his jacket and scampered back out into the crowded hallway.

"Then what do you want?" Sherlock snipped, refusing to meet John's eyes and honestly hoping he could just escape before he ever had to again. It was stupid of him to think anything could go his way.

"To do my bloody job. What have you got?" Lestrade replied as he pulled out a chewed up biro and notepad from his back pocket and glanced around the room carefully.

"Sorry, should I go?" John asked hesitantly as he moved from foot to foot at the edge of the room, and conversation.

"No." Sherlock replied shortly, not wanting to admit to himself that he knew why he'd had the gut reaction to stop John from leaving.

"Who's he?" Lestrade asked as he stuck the biro behind one ear and eyed John suspiciously.

"This is my assistant, doctor..." Sherlock began, only then realizing he didn't know John's last name, stupid, there's always something.

"Watson." John said, sticking out a newly clean hand.

"And I suppose you two met for sex." Greg teased, shaking the proffered hand and smiling.

John's mouth fell open for a second before Sherlock saved him by ploughing along.

"You'll want to find the wife. She probably hasn't thought to thoroughly remove the powder burns from her hands. I was telling Dr Watson that she probably dropped the gun along the way. Easy as that. Barely a three." Sherlock said promptly, tossing the rag in the closest bin and moving towards the door.

"A man might die. I'd think you'd give it at least a five." Lestrade said suddenly, going back to ignoring John.

"He won't. John worked quickly and your people got here in surprisingly good time. It hit him in the belly but John thinks it wasn't deadly. Isn't that right, John?" Sherlock turned back towards John for the first time since they took the man away and was unusually tempted to walk further into the room to retrieve him.

"Oh, um, yes. He'll pull through. Good pulse and they managed to bring blood for transfusion so I'm confident." John told Lestrade honestly, still not sure what the hell he was still doing there.

"Well, I suppose you can go to the front and fill out paperwork with Donovan." Lestrade said as he motioned for his team to come in.

Men in blue suits passed Sherlock and John and began photographing the blood spatter and footprints. Sherlock thought absently that maybe he should point out which were the medic's as he went to the coat check and grabbed his Bellstaff and John's shooting jacket. John smiled weakly at him as he buttoned it over his vest, realising his shirt was still with the injured man, and Sherlock walked with him out the front door.

"What the hell are you doing at a SEX club?" Donovan asked, probably under the impression that she was the first to.

"Good to see you too, Sally. Think you can manage taking our statement without buggering it up?" Sherlock retorted.

Sally took out her notepad with a sneer and turned to John. Perhaps she saw the way Sherlock hung close to the man and preyed on him first because of that, perhaps not. Either way it worked to draw Sherlock's blood to a boil.

"Name and reason for being at this establishment." she demanded coolly.

"Oh, um, that is-" John began, feeling his face flush.

"This is Dr John Watson." Sherlock spit, emphasis on the doctor, "We were here working undercover. There was a scream from the loo and a blond man ran through the dance floor and out the front door. We went to see what all the fuss was about and found the victim on the floor bleeding from a gunshot wound to the lower abdomen. Dr Watson stabalised him and took his vitals while I held a rag to his wound. The ambulance was called and you lot came stumbling after. Lestrade knows the rest, now, we'll be on our way." 

John stared at him the whole time with a sort of fondness that Sherlock couldn't place, at least not while directed at him. When he stopped John nodded next to him and then followed him down the road. When they were a block away Sherlock cleared his throat and flipped his collar up. John's brain sort of short circuited at that and he thought to himself that he'd finally found the one damn person that made it look natural. Christ.

"I was going to get dinner." Sherlock lied.

"Mmm." John replied absently, trying not to focus on the stickiness of his spent cock in his pants and the fact that with the adrenalin it was acting a lot less spent.

"Are you...are you hungry?" Sherlock asked when he didn't get the response he wanted.

John looked up with that and grinned from ear to ear, damn happy not to have to leave this brilliant man so soon. "Starving!"

Sherlock smiled to himself, tucking his chin and taking a deep, relieved breath.

"I know a good Thai place down the street. You can always tell the good ones by the clothing hung from the windows in the flat above. People who live where they work won't stand smelling food all day that isn't top notch." Sherlock said.

"Brilliant." John breathed out, feet suddenly planted to the pavement as he looked Sherlock up and down as if for the first time. 

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock asked, stopping as well and turning to look quizzically at the man he now considered a companion of sorts.

"You. You're brilliant. The thing about the gun and the wife. Clothes hanging from a window. Christ, brilliant." John replied with growing confidence.

It made him feel more in his element to see Sherlock blushing, whether he wanted to admit it or not, and he found himself walking again and keeping perfect pace with the taller man. Sherlock gave himself another small smile and promised himself he'd make John stay, already starting to formulate two, no, three plans as they slipped through the front door of the small restaurant and an older woman greeted them.

She spoke quickly in a language John didn't speak and Sherlock replied in kind. The woman perked up and led him to a table by the arm while John, once again, trailed after. They sat across from each other in a small booth and Sherlock continued to speak to the woman as she brought them water and tea and something that turned out to be crispy fried tofu. When they were finally alone John took a sip of his tea and eyed Sherlock carefully.

"You told that man I was your assistant." he said before picking up another piece of tofu and taking a bite.

"Would you rather I have said sexual partner?" Sherlock asked with a small grin and a raised eyebrow.

John choked a bit and while he recovered he shook his head to display that, no, he'd wouldn't. When he could speak again he asked what he'd asked after Sherlock's first deduction.

"So, who are you, really, Sherlock Holmes? Are you a policeman? Is that why everyone knew you?" 

Sherlock snorted. "No. I'm more of a consultant. My official title is consulting detective. I assist the police when they're out of their depth, which is always."

"Mmm. High opinion of the Met. I suppose that's why Donovan hates you." John replied teasingly.

"No, she hates me because I'm better than her at her job." Sherlock said, scrunching up his nose like he was debating telling John the whole story before going ahead, "That and I seem to have outed her relationship with a fellow officer last year." he added with a small frown.

"Accidentally, I'm sure." John chuckled.

"I thought everyone else knew. The clues were right there, for god's sake." Sherlock grumbled, that being the closest to him admitting fault as he was going to get.

The woman brought them chicken lettuce wraps and a plate of crispy sweet and sour noodles and John noticed for the first time that Sherlock wasn't eating. He drew a napkin across his lips and sat back.

"You haven't taken a bite." he said carefully. "I thought you said you were hungry."

"No, I said I was going to dinner, you assumed I was going to eat." Sherlock shot back without any heat.

"Well, it's an easy assumption to make. That's what normal people do when they go to dinner. Don't you have anyone to feed you up?" John asked.

"Mrs Hudson attempts in regular intervals." Sherlock admitted as he picked up a fork and poked it at the noodles.

"And Mrs Hudson is..." John began, really hoping Sherlock wasn't secretly married, last names aside.

"My housekeeper, well, landlord." Sherlock replied.

"So no boyfriend...or girlfriend?" John asked, getting back to the food and licking his lips more often than really necessary.

"No, I don't date." Sherlock began.

"Oh, right. Of course." John said, defeated. Of course. Of course the most brilliant man and, let's be honest, the best lay he'd had in months, didn't date.

"Usually." Sherlock added. "I don't, usually."

There was a moment there where they simply looked into each other's eyes before John glanced back down to his plate. It was the type of moment Sherlock never had and, because of that, set his skin to itching.

"So you're unattached, like me," John said with a poorly hidden smile, "good."

Sherlock twirled his fork and took a hesitant bite of noodles. He caught John's eye and smiled softly.

"Does this count as me feeding you up?" John asked as he handed a wrap over.

"Only if you pay." Sherlock shot back, heartbeat quickening as their fingers brushed together momentarily.

"I'll remember that." John said, chuckling.

_____

They ate the rest of the meal in silence and John shot Sherlock a teasing frown when he explained that the meal was on the house due to a case he solved for the owner a year prior. When they got outside to the kerb Sherlock held his hand out for a cab and one pulled up almost instantaneously.

"I have tea." he sputtered.

"Oh?" John asked.

"If you'd like some." Sherlock added with a nervous clench of his jaw.

"Oh." John said, it dawning on him what Sherlock was saying.

"But if you don't-" Sherlock said quickly.

"No. I mean yes. To the tea." John added, cutting Sherlock off and thoroughly shutting him up.


	3. Come 'ere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John end up back at Sherlock's flat...

They made it back to 221 in what Sherlock was happy to consider record time, as he didn't know what to say so the whole cab ride was spent in awkward silence. He fumbled with his keys and John smirked behind him, unseen. Once they were up the steps John took a seat on the sofa while Sherlock rummaged around in the kitchen.

"So, you work with the police a lot, then?" John asked from the sitting room.

"Yes, quite a bit, although Lestrade has become upset with me over the last month or so. Considers some of the things I do to be meddling but that's because he's an idiot." Sherlock replied as he filled the kettle.

John chuckled and stretched his arms out on the back of the sofa. "You think everyone's an idiot, don't you?"

"Almost everyone is." Sherlock replied, turning to face John but staying in the kitchen as he was hesitant to take the seat next to the blond man.

"Almost?" John asked with a smirk.

"There are some...exceptions." Sherlock replied nervously.

"Got any biscuits?" John asked.

Sherlock was glad for the change of subject and began going through cupboards looking for some. By the time he had found a crumpled, half-empty packet the water was ready and he brought the tea tray over to the sofa.

"These are my favorite." John said, picking up one if the biscuits from the tray and taking a bite as he made his tea up. 

Sherlock took one and nibbled the edges as he watched his companion and memorized his movements and preferences. There was a new room in his mind palace, a room threatening to turn into a wing at every nuanced action John performed. It wasn't as if Sherlock thought every single second of that evening had to be kept, well, not necessarily, it was more that he didn't know which information within the bevy was important and which could be pushed aside. He'd never wanted so badly to convince someone to stay and therefore had no idea what in god's name he was doing.

"You know, you're staring." John said from the far window.

Sherlock shook his head and looked down at his tea.

"I apologise?" he asked, honest confusion making it into his tone.

"No need." John said with a smile. "Does the fireplace work?"

"Yes...would you like, that is, I have wood." Sherlock replied clumsily as he stood to find kindling.

"I think I might have to stay the night and it seems like your heater doesn't work." John replied as he sat back on the sofa.

"Stay the night?" Sherlock asked, stopping in his tracks and swallowing thickly.

John's mouth opened as if to say something and then hung like that for a few seconds before turning into a smile. He took a sip of his tea and nodded before putting the mug down.

"Don't think any cabs are going to be out in this." he said, motioning to the window and what he'd been looking at a few minutes prior.

It was the first time Sherlock noticed the change in weather. There was rain pelting the window and screaming on the rooftop. John quirked an eyebrow when lightening hit and Sherlock jumped back.

"There's probably flooding as we speak." Sherlock said, pulling his mobile from his pocket and tapping away. "Doesn't look like it will let up."

"Mmm." John replied.

Sherlock went back to getting a fire ready and John just watched the lithe body move. He was gorgeous, although John had already said that, and agile even when clumsily piling wood, something which delighted John to no end. When the fire was good and going Sherlock went back to sit on the cushion next to John awkwardly.

"I didn't pay the bill." he said absently.

"The bill?" John asked as he stretched his arms along the back of the sofa.

"That's why the heater doesn't work. I didn't pay the bill. Forgot to." Sherlock answered with a long drawn in breath.

"Suppose you were too busy thinking about murders." John teased.

"And mold." Sherlock added with a nod.

"Of course, mold." John said with a small smile.

"I think I'd like to take you to bed." Sherlock blurted.

John choked out a laugh and then smiled gently when Sherlock seemed just as surprised that he'd said it.

"Of course-" Sherlock back pedaled.

"Alright." John replied, hand slipping down to nestle into the shorter hairs at the nape of Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock hummed and let his eyes slip closed as John moved closer and leaned over to lick across his lips. The hum grew as Sherlock's mouth was teased open and John licked across his tongue.

"Slower this time, yeah?" John said as he pulled Sherlock up from the sofa.

"Mmm. Yes." Sherlock replied dreamily.

"You'll have to show me where the bedroom is." John said with a smirk.

"Oh." Sherlock replied, eyebrows knit together as he looked up and then around the room.

John watched him fondly and then followed him down the hall and through the far door. When Sherlock stood at the foot of the bed and didn't turn John slid up behind him and gripped his hips while kissing the back of his neck.

"I need something from you." Sherlock said nervously.

"Yeah, what's that?" John asked as he continued to kiss.

"I need you to," Sherlock began, stopping to swallow before going on, "take care of me." he whispered.

John sagged against his back with a sigh and nodded before turning Sherlock around and sitting him on the edge of the bed.

"It's okay, you're safe." he said, "I'll take care of you."

Sherlock bit his lip and nodded as John unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his shoulders. There was a kind of tenderness to the motion that Sherlock immediately felt, it making him sink lower on the bed and breathe out deeply, content.

"Will you lay down for me?" John asked gently as he brushed the curls from Sherlock's brow.

"This is...I'm not usually..." Sherlock said distantly.

"Not usually what?" John asked as he watched Sherlock carefully.

"Agreeable." Sherlock replied.

"Oh." John said, "Okay. But you're feeling agreeable now?"

Sherlock nodded before laying back and resting his arms at his sides. John chuckled and removed his own shirt before setting it aside and unbuttoning his trousers.

"You can say no. To anything." John said as he took down the zip on Sherlock's expensive trousers and pulled them down his hips along with his pants.

"Alright." Sherlock whispered.  
"Promise me." John prodded.

"I promise." Sherlock replied in a hazy voice.

John sighed and shook his head, taking off his pants and trousers before climbing onto the bed next to the taller man and pulling him against his chest. Sherlock made an unhappy little grumble before John wrapped a leg around him and rolled his hips.

"That's it." John purred as Sherlock moved in return and moaned against his shoulder. "Condoms in the bedside table?"

Sherlock nodded and John reached out his left hand to search through the drawer until he found two foil packets and a tube of lubricant. He rolled onto his back and put a condom on himself before opening the second packet and placing it over just he head of Sherlock's prick. Sherlock groaned and his eyes rolled into the back of his head when John moved down the bed and used his lips to roll it the rest of the way down.

He honestly couldn't help the jump of his hips at the wet heat of John's mouth. The sounds he made as John fondled his bollocks and pulled off were strangled and loud. John came away with a smug grin and poured some lube into his hand.

"Come 'ere." he half growled.

Sherlock whined and pulled at his shoulders so they were once again pressed together and John could wrap a slick fist around both their lengths. Sherlock shuddered and began to thrust his hips as John stroked up and down slowly.

"More." he panted. "Please, John, more."

John tightened his fist and moved it faster, licking into Sherlock's mouth and gripping his hair with the other hand. The slick sounds they made together threatened to push John over the edge so he pulled back and looked Sherlock in the eyes.

"I need you to come for me. Come on, then, you can do it." he murmured.

"John! John! John!" Sherlock shouted before thrusting his hips roughly and going completely stiff.

John groaned and kissed his neck and came at the feeling of his cock spasming. 

They lay there for a moment catching their breath before John climbed out of bed and found his way to the loo to get a flannel wet. He tossed his condom and walked back to do what he'd promised; take care of Sherlock. The brunette was laid out on his back with his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. John carefully removed the condom and brushed the soft, warm cloth over the head of his prick. Sherlock whined a bit before relaxing again.

When John had got rid of the condom and flannel he slipped back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over them both. Sherlock moved until his head was nestled just below John's chin and hummed deeply.

"You go to sleep now." John murmured gently.


	4. I've Got You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after goes a bit roughly at first.

The rain didn't let up through the night, bucketfuls of it coursing like a river down Baker Street and leading a very angry actual baker downstairs from 221b to curse the gods and call to have his grandson bring over sandbags. The boy didn't make it before the water broke over the doorway of Speedy's and poured into the kitchen. All in all, the weather was making quite a mess. 

The second mess of the morning was that of an emotional kind. Sherlock was a mess. A big, slobbering, shaking mess. He'd woken an hour prior to his new bedfellow wrapped comfortably around him and had a bit of a mental breakdown where he lay. Perhaps it was the way John's hand held his hand, their linked fingers stiff but warm. Perhaps it was the soft breath puffing against his neck. Most probably it had to do with the realisation that the night before Sherlock had, not once, but twice, let John see him in the throes of passion. A passion that left him spent, weak, and fragile.

He didn't do fragility well. When he was fragile, well, when he let it show, it came out in tremendous heaves much like the water which continued to fall from the sky, a veritable deluge of emotion only kept in by years of practice. Sometimes even that didn't work.

He at least made it into the loo before he broke into sobs, eyes overflowing with tears and body wracked with guilt. Guilt. Why guilt, you might ask. Because Sherlock Holmes was feeling, had let himself feel the night before, and feeling was something he and his brother had never done well. It was curious that his parents never had an issue with it, but they really didn't. The boy's schoolmates often entertained the idea that the two had been raised by either robots or very, very posh wolves. 

So guilt it was that had taken hold of Sherlock just before the sun rose and rode him roughly into morning with barely a single breath not torn from heaving chest. He would have thought he'd run dry at some point, run dry or require fluids, but he didn't. By the time John woke Sherlock was still leaking readily from both eyes, though doing so silently at last. He heard John's steady footfalls down the hall in his direction.

"Sherlock?" John asked, knocking on the door and sounding concerned. (so, not as silent as he thought)

"Hmm?" he returned.

"Are you alright?" John asked.

"Yes!" Sherlock replied, voice pinched.

"Okay..." John said, shifting from foot to foot if the shadows under the door were to be believed. "Can I...well, I kind of need to piss."

Sherlock laughed roughly at that, surprising himself, before standing and leaving through the second door in order to avoid looking John in the eye. 

"Tea?" he asked so as to let John know he had vacated the room, voice coming out fairly normal.

"Yeah, ta." John replied.

Sherlock went to fill the kettle and wiped his face on the only cleanish towel in sight, noticing how thoroughly he'd wet his shirtsleeves with his tears and that the cuffs still had caked on blood from the man shot in the club. The club. Jesus, what had he been thinking going to a bloody sex club? This would end just as every one of his forays into the physical had, he'd be left alone again just as he'd forgot how to live that way.

"The water's gone off." John said as he came up behind Sherlock, placing a hand on his waist.

Sherlock swallowed thickly and nodded, the touch making it impossible for him to move. When he didn't respond well to the touch John took a step back which only make Sherlock stiffen further, eyes burning anew.

"I can, erm, go if you-" John began.

"You really can't!" Sherlock said tersely.

"I can. I'll just-" John tried.

"The whole bloody street's flooded!" Sherlock explained.

And then he glanced over at John and their eyes met and they were somehow laughing, John's high pitched giggle joining Sherlock's chuckle. When they could breath again John shrugged slightly and spoke.

"I spent three years in Afghanistan living on rations and carrying my entire clinic on my back, you think I can't build a boat from things found in your flat?" he teased, looking around said flat.

He pretended to test out the strength of one of the table legs and Sherlock started to laugh again.

"You're ridiculous." Sherlock said, sniffing slightly and turning to pour the hot water into two mugs.

John shrugged and looked around the flat. There were papers and boxes on every surface and stacked on the floor. He looked back and caught Sherlock's eye.

"So...this is all, what exactly?" he asked.

"Oh. Well, experiments and, um, cases and well..." Sherlock said as he fluttered around and shuffled papers this way and that, eventually adhering a stack of them to the wall via pocket knife. 

John snorted and sat at the kitchen table. Sherlock took another moment to look exasperatedly around the room before settling across from John and pushing things aside so there was an open space between them.

"I don't have people over." he explained.

"Mmm." John replied, "because you aren't usually agreeable?" 

Sherlock looked up, eyes wide, remembering the night before and then back down at his tea when he saw John's smirk. John chuckled and pushed his toes up into the cuff of Sherlock's trousers to brush against his skin. Sherlock felt himself blush and cleared his throat twice before taking a sip of his tea.

They sat in silence, drinking tea and taking turns trying to covertly watch one another. When they'd finished their tea John took the cups and put them into the sink before turning to lean against the counter and appraise Sherlock.

"You're wearing your shirt from last night." he said.

Sherlock looked down and wrinkled his nose before shrugging.

"It's covered in blood." John added.

"Yes, well..." Sherlock began.

"Let's get you out of that and take a shower." John said.

Sherlock was surprised to find care in the statement instead of mere arousal. He felt a shiver run down his spine at that and nodded once before standing and following John to the loo. He stood nervously, eyes trying to find something besides John to watch as the shorter man ran the water until it was hot and then turned on the shower.

"Come on, let's take this off." John said with a soft smile as he unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt and pushed it down his shoulders before starting on his wrinkled trousers.

"You don't have to-" Sherlock whispered hoarsely.

"Stating the obvious, are we?" John said with a wry smile.

Sherlock huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes as John pushed down his trousers and pants and removed them carefully from his bare ankles. He slipped under the spray as John removed his pants. The water felt good as it poured down onto his skin, practically assaulting him with its force. He felt John get in behind him and breathed deeply, trying to control his spinning mind.

"Should've known you'd have some sort of posh shampoo." John teased. "Get your hair wet."

Sherlock hesitated. "You really don't have-" he started as he saw John pour some shampoo into his hand and set the bottle down.

"Hey, I said I'd take care of you, yeah?" John replied.

Sherlock swallowed thickly, not wanting to believe John meant what he said, and bent to wet his hair. He turned and John ran his fingers through his dripping curls and massaged his scalp. Sherlock practically melted and John pressed close, kissing his shoulder.

"I meant it." John whispered against his skin. "I know it's, well, rather fast, but I meant it."

Sherlock made a sound deep in his throat and John chuckled.

"That's a good lad. Stand still for me." John replied roughly.

Sherlock let out a low moan, telling John he was on the right track, and shivered. He whined, to his own horror, as John drew away.

"Rinse now." John said as he soaped up a flannel.

Sherlock rinsed his hair and John came up close behind him again.

"Hands on the wall." he said, "That's it. That's my good little soldier."

Sherlock made a little 'ha' noise and felt his cock filling out between his legs. John brought the damp cloth up and and ran it in circles over Sherlock's chest.

"You want to be good, don't you?" John whispered.

Sherlock nodded, not trusting his own voice, and John trailed the flannel lower.

"Tell me if you need to go slower." John said as he wrapped the soft cloth around Sherlock's very, very interested cock and pulled once all the way from root to tip.

"It's okay. I'm right here." he said as Sherlock began to shake slightly.

"Please." Sherlock begged, not sure what he was begging for, just knowing he needed more, more of something, anything.

"Please what?" John asked as he pulled again and reached down to fondle Sherlock's bollocks.

"Please, daddy." Sherlock whispered, mortified.

John couldn't hear what the second word was but saw how affected Sherlock had become so he let it go.

"That's it." John soothed, stroking Sherlock's cock with the flannel and eliciting loud sighs and moans.

"I can't, it's-" Sherlock began.

John backed off a bit and Sherlock became nearly frantic.

"Don't stop! Please, please, don't stop!" he whined, moving his hips in small aborted thrusts.

"Okay, okay. You're fine. You're safe. I've got you." John said, going back to fairly quick strokes and holding his breath as Sherlock climaxed in his hand.

He pulled away as Sherlock became too sensitive and pulled fiercely at his own neglected cock while he rubbed circles on the back of Sherlock's neck with his thumb.

"Beautiful, sweet boy." he said.

Sherlock whined and John came hard, eyes falling closed and hips stuttering as he painted Sherlock's upper thighs.

_____

John finished cleaning Sherlock and gave himself a once over with the flannel before helping him from the tub and drying him thoroughly. Sherlock expected John to leave then, going to sit in the living room after slipping into his clothes, and was surprised when he helped him into his clothes and then made him eat a piece of toast and some beans. It felt incredible to be doted on and he had to remind himself that it wouldn't last.


End file.
